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What it must have been like in our first days to encounter the gods above and all around us that delivered every possible comfort and nurturing. By breast and bottle we were fed; by blanket warmed and by lullaby entranced into sleep. As time went by, we did not notice the imperfections, the lapses. And later, even as we noticed, it was hard to accept that Mom and Dad were not quite the perfect deities we had imagined. There is disappointment. All parents fall from the supernatural grace bestowed on them by sensorimotor and preoperational intelligence and our wish for heaven on earth.

Some parents fall harder than others. And they are not the only ones.

Complications arise with this fall from pedestals, yet we seem to be hard wired to never give up on the search for the perfect friend, lover, teacher, and coach. And in this Age of Influence, screens manifest an almost infinite array of gods and goddesses we so want to believe in! Who does not want a perfect hero to emulate; to explain things; to guide us through troubled waters? Like those perfect parents…we never had.

Perhaps our problem comes in what we are looking for in our heroes.  After all, there is within us something bigger and much deeper than a parent to be projected (more on that later).

Let’s start with this: All of us are flawed and some of us tragically so; hamartánein; flawed and downfallen. Think of the famed Buffalo Bills running back accused of uxoricide; the revered Labor Leader implicated in serial sex abuses; the alleged child rape perpetrators: a Prince; a Governor; a Movie Director. Even the persona, Miranda Sings, was alleged to have groomed and formed inappropriate relationships with underage fans. We seem to imbue some heroes with an imagined (Perfect Parent) greatness that obscures a deeply defective nature. All of these were heroes to some and ultimately grave and bitter disappointments.

So what about that something within us, bigger and much deeper than a Parental Projection?  Almost there…

Seeking Superstars, we have lost track of what heroism is, of the everyday hero’s journey: our own lives of challenge, of triumph, of pain and unsatisfactoriness. We all brave it all, our very imperfect quest. And when you think about it that way, heroes abound!

We could be inspired and learn so much from the imperfect but heroic friend, lover, teacher, and coach. So we must not fall into a trap of our own making by projecting a Perfect Parent/Perfect Person across a very human figure. An impulsive firing of such an exemplar could be an unfortunate, unforced error. As inevitable shortcomings appear, our disappointment would lead to termination, and a serious job opening for the next would-be Superstar in our lives. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Yikes!

Our delusion resides in the very wish for the Perfect Parent- a test all parents fail, as do all subsequent potential occupants of that nonpareil-sized hole in our hearts. It takes courage to accept that there are no Perfect Parents and no Perfect Superstars to fill their shoes. There is just us.  A little over eight billion of us (heroes abound), who can never ever fill that heart hole for the Perfect Parent…and should just stop trying.

Now let’s get to what is bigger and deeper, even than Mom and Dad!

There is an old Zen saying, “if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him”. The wise Buddhist Psychotherapist from Washington, DC, authored a book with that title and submitted that “if you have a hero, look again: you have diminished yourself in some way.” Beyond parents, we ought not project the inner hero, the Buddha nature within, onto anyone either. After all we are, each of us, the hero we have been searching for!

This is our remedy and what might fill our ailing heart. We could reclaim our own inner (imperfect) hero and begin to see the inner hero that resides in all human beings.

We are in good company.

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Where does this thought come from?
I mean this very thought,
this terse verse rising from
utter emptiness.

Emptied into the mess
of messy words and images,
from mirages and memories,
from stories and dreams and

Memes and fragments that
occupy fully, then vanish
into timeless tombs.

And into wombs to be born
again, cogito.
Not ergo anything,
Just a thought without a thinker,
Just to tinker around the edges.

Edgy to know
that we are not our thoughts.

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We live in some kind of mix of wonder and terror, with so many fed-up people swearing off the news… and becoming hooked on their smart phones. Evolutionary biologists have called ours an age of hyper-novelty, whereby our novelty attracted brains bounce from this to that in an ever-accelerating media world bent on attention capture. Minds captured by technologists who manipulate our deepest emotions, like fear and envy and anger. Yep, our mind, our very intelligence, is trapped by clever bells and whistles into repetitive phone searches and doom scrolling. And when you reflect upon it, you are not always sure just why you picked your phone up in the first place.

And it is about to get a lot worse.

Let’s start in the distant past for a chance to understand where we are now, and where we might be going. And by the way, no expertise in evolutionary science is claimed here, so the following is advanced from the perspective of just a sincere student.

Nearly two million years ago, Homo Habilis roamed this earth, Africa to be exact. He was so-called for his ability to use stone tools like large animal bones for butchering. The little fellow stood 3 ½ to 4 ½ feet tall, and his body was somewhat apelike.

This short-legged, long armed being is invoked here to exemplify one of the earlier members of the Homo genus, and an indirect ancestor to ourselves. We are Homo sapiens and hopefully we have learned a few things about tools over the past 300,000 years. Homo sapiens implies “wise man”. How wise human beings have been with the tools they create could occupy volumes of pros and cons. Think hammer and plow; printing press and steam engine, think machines of war. Yes, it’s a mixed bag.

Now, think computers and artificial intelligence, and feel the tilt of the room, if not the whole planet.

A central thesis in this little essay is that wisdom takes some time… and that we are behind schedule. This proposition is best explained by the esteemed Myrmecologist who argued that “The real problem of humanity is the following: we have paleolithic emotions; medieval institutions; and god-like technology”. What could possibly go wrong?

AI developers have been obsessed with developing the god-like tech of intelligence, AGI. Theoretically, artificial general intelligence will surpass human capacities in, well, everything. And then there is super intelligence that can, it is said, solve all problems. You have probably heard of the high-stakes race to develop this god-like technology. While it is sometimes represented as a panacea (there will be some of that), it is being created by people with Paleolithic emotions…a room full of Homo Habilis minded chief executives. Think job loss, cognitive decline, autonomous weapons. Nightmares will outnumber panaceas. By a lot.

Motivated by avarice and ego, they race forward at breakneck speed with no brakes. They seem to wrongly believe that developing intelligence is merely a matter of evermore information and large language modeling. This dangerous race is like something out of middle school…Sam must beat Elon…Elon must beat Dario. But there is a point not considered or perhaps just suppressed because it will only slow these ambitions down.

You see, while intelligent, these very smart AI’s are not wise, nor will they ever be. This reflects the intelligent but unwise minds of those creators. AI creators seem not to understand that when wisdom does take hold, it is more than an expanding cranium. It is that larger brain but so much more: development across vast expanses of time with a visceral exertion to survive, and send our genes down the road for one more generation. That is what has grown whatever wisdom humans might take credit for across religions and philosophies and mythologies. Technologists can set in motion the ingredients but only time and (right) effort will bake the evolutionary cake. AGI will mimic Lao Tzu without the wisdom of the Old Master. Lao Tzu with hallucinations.

Perhaps this error in conceptualizing intelligence and wisdom relates to a prejudice most of us can understand. We all knew a smart kid growing up. Maybe we were that kid. And we have been swarmed with stereotypes about intelligent people and unintelligent people our whole lives. Status and accolades surround the intelligent; there is understandable pride and, quite often, the social trappings of success. AI creators occupy that space.

All this begs the question, what about the unintelligent? What about people with intellectual disability and what about people with dementia and other cognitive impairments?  There has always been a societal tendency to stigmatize and shun persons with mental statuses like these. Our (false) belief system about these people promotes disrespect, indifference and abuse. Here we find ourselves facing square-on an under-discussed prejudice, intelligism–A bias against persons with cognitive limits or impairments, based on an over-valuing of intelligence itself.

Of course, it matters when impairments happen, the onset, be it at birth, midlife, or in later years. Congenital disorders seem to be part of Identity and are often embraced. Later onsets with accidents and illness may seem alien to Identity and are usually rejected. All of that is a story for another day. Here, we contend that truly seeing the personhood of an individual with a diminished mind is a great blessing to the person and to their beholder. To believe otherwise is to discount personhood and buy into the intelligism that inflates the merit of intelligence into a false god. The AI rush is a nightmare and a heresy.

After all, AGI will certainly surpass all of us intellectually- you, me, and everyone we know. In relation to AGI, we are all the impaired, the unintelligent masses. We will bristle against this late-onset condition and feel trapped in it and by it. For it was only yesterday that we were ok, and then suddenly, we find ourselves thrown from the top of the heap.

Will AI condemn us? Shall we condemn ourselves? Shall we forget the wisdom that will always distinguish us from an intellectually superior AGI. At our best, we have these hundreds of thousands of years of exertion and learning, yielding personhood’s wisdom, and we desperately need it now. Lao Tzu did not represent wisdom as a function of Large Language Models. In truth, he said The Way was ineffable.

So it is all about to get a lot worse. Unless we can be wise, put intelligence in perspective, and pause AI development before that nightmare takes hold.

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We bear witness to such division today. Disharmonies are everywhere: nation against nation, generation against generation, and neighbor against neighbor. Tried and true institutions and values seem to be falling apart. Some formerly life-sustaining scripture bends and breaks, broken in relation to that never-ending, never-settled scientific revolution.

Many of us feel a little broken too.

Abounding threats, large and tiny, catch us quite off guard. We search our phones for answers, but there is not much to be found there except more bad news: a war declared trending on X; a voicemail from a suddenly ill, dear friend; another texted sales pitch.

But there abounds good news too, if we learn where and how to look for it. And it is ever-present, and perennial to boot. Last Century, a Philosopher and a Mythologist seemed to arrive, from different directions, at a single and very auspicious perspective.

The Philosopher took refuge in the library at Trabuco and dug in: reading, contemplating, writing. What emerged was a philosophia perennis, an account across time and philosophies and religions of the “Highest Common Factor”. Composed through the ages by saints, sages, and prophets, this perennial philosophy was everywhere to behold. It was transcendent and immanent, cosmic space and divine ground. The Philosopher had discovered that beyond and within the many differences between wisdom traditions floated enduring pay dirt: tat tvam asi.

The Mythologist, at nearly the same time, recognized something quite universal from the perspective of journeys undertaken in myth, fairy tale, scripture, and dreams. A monomyth. It was the heroes’ journey with legendary protagonists ranging from bear cult worshippers, to witch doctors, to Olympian gods, and finally, to our very selves. Later, the Mythologist would write of the collapse of many myths and religions held literally. Science and Rationalism would dispel beliefs in a Flood, a Parted Sea, and an Exodus. So he urged the necessity to explore a new yet ancient myth: “the old everlasting perennial mythology” that eternally exists along side the scientific method, with each illuminating the other. A perennial mythology that he identified more than once as tat tvam asi…that thou art. But what exactly does it mean?

The Chandogya Upanishad, created long ago (7th century BCE), conveys a Truth both Philosopher and Mythologist identified as perennial to the core, all around and within everyone of us. The story, in brief, goes something like this: An overly cocky twelve year old (imagine that) named Svetaketu, inquired of his father, Uddalaka, about the Knowledge whereby “we can know what cannot be known”. His father gave the boy a humbling task, to bring back a fruit from the nyagrodha tree and discover the tree’s inception. An experiment ensued as father directed son to break the fruit open; then, to break open a seed held within the fruit. Svetaketu searched but could not see the origin of the tree in the broken fruit and tiny seed.

Similarly, the boy was instructed to put some salt in a cup of water. The next day father asked son about the salt and its whereabouts, but it had dissolved, and the boy could not see it. Now taste the water instructed Uddalaka. It was, of course, salty…still present but invisible salt. Father explained that the hidden salt remained in the water even as the imperceptible Atman (Essence, Spiritual Self) remained in all things, as invisible as it was perennial.

Lovingly, Uddalaka concluded, “you my dear Svetaketu are that Essence, that thou art”.  Tat tvam asi.

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Don’t just do something,
stand there.
To be fair,
just sit there.

Sit and stare,
innocent, open, and offline.
Spine gently straight,
held firm and awake,
baking sapientia
in a (nothing special) sit.

Fit for no thing,
engaged with everything.
Standing now.

But don’t just stand there,
Do some sacred something,
bring your all,
to this,

our one and only lifespan.

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“It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer.” Einstein

Here, the wise physicist who proclaimed the “modest life” was channeling something gritty about mental perseverance. For example, you could persevere through the rest of this essay or maybe just pick up your smart phone and move to the next thing. This is our dilemma today, an utter intolerance for staying with problems, challenges, or really much of anything at all so: click, click, click.

Our irritation at inconvenience is more palpable than ever and instant gratification has never been quite so, well, instant. So instead of staying with a problem, we simply offload it; copy and paste it into ChatGPT or any of its brethren. Cognitive offloading. Instant answers. Everybody is doing it!

Now plenty has been written about the virtues of artificial intelligence for vacation planning, recipe making, foreign language learning and radiology interpreting. A properly programmed chat-bot tutor aids students with patience, precision and accessibility. There are trade-offs. Artificial intelligence directed at cancer cures is as inspiring as those technologies are terrifying when aimed at biological warfare. There is a potential to “solve” environmental problems even as AI Centers require godawful amounts of energy with negative environmental consequences. We will always have problems despite AI enthusiasts and their claims for utopia.

Let’s return to Einstein’s point and staying with problems: “Stay with it!” This is the encouragement from parent to child, teacher to student, and therapist to client. In all three domains growth often comes by staying with challenges and learning from that (sometimes) nettling process. Learning requires exertion and effort, qualities essential to knowledge acquisition honed over tens of thousands of years. Back to offloading.  It forecloses opportunities for growth and learning in exchange for quick and easy answers that present a compelling illusion: that artificial intelligence is our own intelligence. We feel smart and competent. But ironically, emerging research shows diminished intellectual abilities with AI, particularly a loss of critical thinking…a world feeling smarter, even as it is getting dumber.

An added and unfortunate twist: cognitive surrender. Arguably more insidious than intentional offloading, we surrender without quite knowing it. We give up our intuitive and deliberative capacities as we adopt AI information. No questions asked. One research study found that people followed wrong AI answers 80% of the time. Unlike the decision to offload, surrender means giving up and giving in–not to our own brainpower but to that of a “machine”. Surrender, as in we lose.

There is something called the automation bias that applies here. We tend to believe machine-generated answers more than information from traditional sources like books or (wise) people. The EdTech revolution of the last four decades saturated classrooms with computers and tablets. And with smart phones on a desk, in a pocket, or a purse. Research shows that just the proximity of a smart phone reduces concentration! Many attribute student achievement declines to these technologies…and to social media (a story for another day). Artificial Intelligence is the latest and greatest tech-threat to our own intelligence. The disruptions to education are already immense. Students are using ChatGPT and similar technologies to write essays, term papers, and complete online exams. They are not learning course subject matter, so-called “learning objectives”, and they are (rapidly) forgetting how to think.

Of course, that means that schools themselves must be at the forefront of caution and regulation, right? Nope. Ohio State University will require an entire course and numerous workshops on the use of AI for its students. California State University has contracted with Open-AI for something ominously called ChatGPT Edu…an oxymoron of sorts. This provides over 450,000 students and 63,000 staffers with a premium version of the platform. For those of us who can remember the aforementioned EdTech Revolution, Apple computer school discounts and giveaways in the 1980’s, this is true déjà vu…the nightmarish kind. Not to be outdone, California Community Colleges will support “human-centered AI grounded in equity, accountability, and student success with faculty, staff, administrators, students, and partners to expand access”. How do we reconcile these lofty sentiments with the deep darkside of offloading and surrender? Cynics ponder how this industry, with billions invested, seems to exert such influence over our colleges and universities.

Some argue for a moratorium on these regressive steps by school administrations. In the style of best practice research, there should be a review of the scientific literature that has already exposed scores of problems and flaws with this technology in educational settings. There should be open and honest meetings with stakeholders-more researchers and especially students and teachers; fewer administrators and industry “experts”.

All of education should pause. No more AI implementation. We need to stay with this problem a little longer.

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Waking up to the miseries of the world and our essential predicament alarms us; overwhelms us.

So, refuge in literal sleep, daydreaming or even a good nap seems like a smart idea. But prepare, the focus hereafter will depart from lessons in sleep hygiene and embrace the symbolic nature of wakefulness and sleep.

The spiritual aspirant, intent on waking up, encounters the sparkles of dew on a spider-woven web, the rising western sun, and the shrieks of playful abandon from a nearby playground (our joy for their joy). Add to that, front-page war horrors, political disruption, and the insidious upset of neighborhood gossip. Life is a mixed bag.

Besides literal sleep, we might seek refuge in consumption. We swallow the wrong food and drink, and too much of both. We resort to Black Friday pastimes year round, with a consumerism that is normalized, but is really just another way to doze off into materiality.  Of course, the dopamine rush of these departures from the spirit yield only temporary relief, and soon we are chewing again on addictive Nabisco concoctions, and credit-carding on Amazon. These are the sacraments of modernity, our communions and our confirmations; our body-blood and our identity.

Perhaps the most complicated of these forces are the technologies that bring us blog posts (like this one), our favorite Kindle Anthology, online gambling and a deluge of social media. Technologies are a mixed bag too.

Technologists smarter than us have surpassed even the Nabisco food chemists as purveyors of addiction. Algorithms tease and trap our brains and fingers into doom scrolls as we chase the highs of our passion and the lows of our fear and outrage. Scientists explain that this unwitting social experiment alters (not for the better) brain functioning, especially in children, teens and young adults. Disturbingly, we are sacrificing our youth without much protest from their elders who are too busy on their own smart phones. And, in a story for another day, the misuse of artificial intelligence is poised to propel this unwholesome enterprise fast forward.

Some blessed folks are waking up to our dilemma, clutching what basic goodness they can, and taking action to lessen the suffering. But awakening to a nightmare is not easy, and even they might forget about those webs of dew and childhood enchantments. Even they might be led onto the tempting exits described herein.

So where is the Refuge that refreshes the quest to live an inspired life and help out others along the way? We might seek out books and teachers and podcasts and influencers of all sorts-there are plenty to choose from! Or we may decide to think about our path a little differently. Instead of looking out there, we might consider looking inside. Myth and legend tell compelling stories of those with the courage to look within; past all the baggage and self-deception. We could go all the way in through sight, and sound, and what is felt like pressures and temperatures and movement…all the way in, to this very breath, and the next and the next.

These are the breaths that support us all; that support both writer and reader in this exact instant of a shared idea. And within and all around our simple respirations, we can discover the present moment. Now.

We are delivered to our body through awareness of breath, and begin to discover that it is this very body; these very senses that are the path to our present moment. We watch carefully. The present moment at once is a millisecond… and all eternity. Disorienting! There is awe, sometimes tinged with tiny frights, as we encounter bare attention. Crutches and barriers we once hung tight to start to dissolve, somehow unneeded.

Consciousness expands in the present moment. At once, we are the vast ocean, and a tumbling wave, and the gentlest sea-bubbles upon the sand all whispering, “pop”.

At once, as we breathe in, we become our very first breath, that unremembered newborn cough cry of glad-to-be-here, now. At once, we are the outbreath, the last breath we will ever expel, still glad and still present. In and out.  Feeling fully the whiff and waft, we come to understand the mantra: life, death, life, death, life…

This is our eternal present moment and the only Refuge we shall ever need.

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Water! We float, swim and splash in it. We can sink and drown in it. Most would agree that floating is better than sinking.

A similar logic can apply to boats, especially old boats. Our family has a delightful intergenerational appreciation of water and boats. And the Boat featured herein is a houseboat occupied, now and then, by Three Brothers. The Boat is quite old, and the Brothers too.

The boating exertions of years ago like water-skiing and exploring unchartered waters occur less often now, if at all.  Nowadays, the Brothers are happy to keep the old boat afloat, but even that requires repairs, and repairs of repairs. The original water tank leaked and required a new relocated water source: a “water bladder” that they promptly punctured, patched and replaced. Of course, there are boat bladders and then there are bladders of a human sort. Comparisons, Boat to Brothers, by simile, metaphor and analogy, are admitted forthwith.

Despite urinary challenges and nighttime trips to the head, the Brothers often remarked on how well they slept, afloat, gently rocking. Perhaps sleep was also so easy because of the late into the night talks that preceded it. These were not just any talks, as they often went from mundane topics like the weather to profound ones, like religion and politics. Come to think of it, on an old houseboat the weather is far from unimportant. After all, leaks come not just from below, but from above and all around with failing caulk and patches at windows, hatches, and doors. The Brothers, recognizing the ever-deteriorating problem, simply sheltered the Boat at a marina with a covered slip. Of course, all three noted their own slippages and leaks, exchanging tales of vulnerability, recovery, and the latest doctor’s office visit. This was a rite of aging!

Now to Politics, a subject that sadly splits up families in our confused and conflicted era. These Brothers went into those very murky waters and felt their common values and some sharp differences. It got edgy, but they somehow took the edge off. Was it unwise, rigid views giving way to wisdom and right understanding as sometimes happens with maturity? Maybe. But the greater credit probably belonged to something much bigger and below them, the vast waters of the Sacramento–San Joaquin River Delta: “Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.”

Yes, besides Politics they spoke of Religion; of Lao Tzu and Saint Paul; of Rupert Spira and a Parish Priest. The Brothers included a Devout Catholic, an Advaita Vedantist, and a Buddhist with affection for Christianity. These talks were spirited agreements and disagreements, but more than that. Without the illusion of infinite time ahead, these Brothers (at their best) sought more “to understand, rather than be understood”. And one of them could even speak the Prayer of St. Frances by heart! These talks enlivened the old men, like a fresh tank of gas in that old Volvo Penta boat engine.

Sleepy and late at night, sometimes the talk turned to “mom and dad”. Each Brother gave voice to love and gratitude. Somehow, they were suddenly wide-awake, as if they were young men, teens or even children again. None had ignored the flaws, the dysfunctions, and the hurts. For each, in his own way, had confronted the past, accepted it; confessed the past, and come a ways toward forgiving parents… and especially themselves.

This was the key to buoyancy; this is what kept them afloat.

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“…when discovery and exploration and curiosity become your path – then basically, if you follow your heart, you’re going to find that it’s often extremely inconvenient….”


A well-known Buddhist nun wrote those words. A former teacher, her sentiments are essential to understanding modern life and, as it turns out, current challenges in education.


You see, once there was education, quite different from today, with almost no technology (unless you count reel to reel and overhead projectors). No computers; no big screen at the front of a classroom and no screen on every desk. There were just books and pens and paper and, well, education. It was more the path of discovery, exploration and curiosity. But, that process was demanding, so messy, so time consuming and all together inconvenient. So streamliners emerged and promoted personal computers for all. It was the start of the EdTech revolution. Nobody bothered to figure out its effect on education, but it sure was profitable…and convenient.


Here is another example. College students today cannot quite imagine a college lecture without publisher-produced slides. These polished presentations cram data onto a large screen as the class frantically keyboards it all into notes upon their tiny computer screens. Professors mumble on, only partly heard. You see, slides in many undergraduate courses relate to texts and both come from the same corporate publishing house. Text and slide based lectures tend to have little variation and always the same author perspective. This amounts to an unfortunately narrow view of the subject for both teacher and student. But it is terribly convenient!


Of course, some teachers try to address the problem. They hand out copies of the module slide deck for note-taking (but a slide is still a slide). Some, thank goodness, limit the data presented on each slide into a sleek visual like a Ted Talk. Still, for those of us who remember the pre-slide era, nostalgia rules like the once ubiquitous chalkboard (precursor to the whiteboard). Chalk dust, like a tiny cloud of floating ideas, emanated from intense cracks and scratches at the board. Not static like a slide, the chalkboard allowed for spontaneous contributions by students and new ideas from teachers in real time. Erasure and rewrites were common as was a sudden turn from the board to engage the class. Engagement!


This nostalgic view should be tempered by the fact that some classes then as now were not so good, just as then as well as now, some teachers are not so good. As a famous Buddhist teacher once stated “nostalgia for samsara is full of shit”. Samsara cycles birth, death and rebirth fueled by ignorance. This short essay cannot resist a tangential analogy to that publisher based college course birthing, dying and birthing yet again each semester.


Today colleges face a new temptation for ultimate convenience: artificial intelligence. Looking for short cuts, student’s copy and paste questions and prompts into ChatGPT which generates a discussion reply, essay or term paper…instantly. No thinking required! Similarly, online examinations are completed with near perfection and with elapsed time less than would be required to actually read each test item. This practice appeared to emerge during the Pandemic when education was thrust online with little forethought and no guardrails. Using AI in school became standard practice for many otherwise honest students. So convenient!


The practice continues despite persuasive research findings that show AI use results in student “cognitive off-loading” and a diminishment of critical thinking. After all, learning to write is essential to learning to think. Writing is a primary tool for cognitive development. The struggle for clarity and precision of the written word, for the reasoned argument, is the struggle to become a clear thinker, a critical thinker. But becoming a critical thinker is quite inconvenient.


Most professors lamented AI use among students. Some of them resisted with in class writing or sharing drafts toward a final, original submission. But others rationalized their own use of this tech to produce lecture notes, (sadly) more slides and even as a means to grade papers.


Think of it: An AI generated essay scored by an AI generated rubric. Both students and teachers freed from the learning process at long last. Education had become entirely convenient!


What about the overseers? College Administrators were in a quandary. Long ago, most colleges had adopted a business model for education where students were consumers and the customer is, as they say, always right. Investments were made in great auditoriums and stadiums but mostly toward student convenience. There were trigger warnings and lots of handholding. There were interactive white boards, virtual reality simulations and AI software. Convenience sells.


The administrative goal was to fill seats and generate income. A good chunk of that revenue was devoted to hiring more and more Administrators who were not so much on the side of real teaching and not so much on the side of real learning. Most were, understandably, on the side of the college business model. They believed they could not stop AI use so they hired Consultants to rationalize that AI use in college was actually a very good thing.


But learning grows in the muck of inconvenience. “No Mud, no Lotus” as Thay famously said. Consider again bygone days and how we best learn, digging into research and being challenged by contrary ideas; composing and re-composing a paragraph; even a sentence…or the exquisite agony of finding just the right word.


Groundswell movements emerged to challenge the convenience of technology. Phones were banned in many classrooms. Computers too. Some evidence shows that physical books and handwritten notes foster learning so much better than EdTech. Quiet keyboarding gave way to loud conversation and exploration. Let Them Grow movements arose. Children and teens were persuaded to interact with each other and solve problems without a phone or parental interface…a great prep for higher education and life.


Maybe the chalkboard will make a comeback too.

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(Note: At the airport, flying to see a dear friend in Hospice…then at the Gate, word came in that he had just passed away.)

Airport skies heavy, dark.
Embarking planes rise, and
so dies and rises
my dear friend and brother.

The rain will come behind these tears.
Brokenhearted tears; grateful tears:
His fears of endless awful life
allayed by a final breath.

Keeping death close.
And weeping at the Seattle/Tacoma Gate,
a perfect, fated synchronicity.
Airport anonymity.
Tears at the A-12 Gate,
this gateless Gate,
this gone beyond:

Gate gate paragate
parasamgate.

Bodhi svaha,
My old friend.

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